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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24373324">I and Love and You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses'>izloveshorses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Great Depression, Summer Romance, all from Anya's pov bc let's be real, but this is a different era!!, idk how else to tag this so have fun, mechanic dmitry, they also live in the midwest bc I'm unoriginal and want them to live where I live, this is all about us getting to thirst for dirty/sweaty dmitry for 20k, which is funny bc u could say canonverse is also a historical au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:41:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24373324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you the mechanic?”</p>
<p>He wiped his palm on his pant leg and held out his hand. “Dmitry. What’s the problem?”</p>
<p>“Anya,” she answered and shook his hand once. </p>
<p>“What’s the problem?” he repeated.</p>
<p>“The car broke down.” </p>
<p>“Clearly,” he smiled with closed lips and dimples popped out of his cheeks. “What’s the problem with it?” he said again.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, that’s your job to figure out.”</p>
<p>His eyebrows rose and he scoffed. She wasn’t sure why she was irritated— perhaps it was the heat or the fact that she had to hang out in a sketchy place by herself with a rude stranger. Or that he kept adjusting his suspenders.</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>Great Depression Era au where a simple car repair job becomes a lot more than either of them expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 &amp; Broadway)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Never Saw You Coming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This whole thing is completely written and originally I was gonna post it all in a one-shot, but it's almost 20k and I didn't wanna do that to y'all lol. Because of this there aren't very many natural breaks to divide it up into chapters so the length of each update is gonna vary a lot! </p>
<p>anyway, enjoy, and thank you for clicking :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anya couldn’t believe her luck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or rather lack thereof. First, on night one of their parents’ weekend business trip, she and her siblings had decided it would be a good idea to take the family car for a little joyride. You could probably guess how that turned out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Second, as her siblings always did when facing possibly unfair situations, they drew straws to decide who would be the responsible one and stay with the car at the repair shop across town. You could probably guess who drew the short straw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The five of them pushed the car all the way across the tracks, way outside of their neighborhood, to the other autoshop they’d heard of. They couldn’t take any risks. This town was too small and gossipy— if they brought the car to the shop where Papa frequented for repairs, they’d have to prepare a lengthy explanation for when their parents returned on Sunday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They arrived at the shop, and Anya felt as grimy as the garage looked. Metal scraps and parts littered the ground, toolboxes layed open and scattered, the decaying wooden walls stapled with various advertisements and receipts, scraped shelves lined with tires and parts of all sizes, stained rags hanging from hooks or on the brims of buckets. Shade from the afternoon summer sun felt wonderful but the air was still sticky with humidity and stagnant in the garage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re okay driving it home after it’s fixed?” Olga asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s fine,” Anya said. “It would be unfair if I broke the rule of straws.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were the one driving when it started making that noise anyway,” Maria piped in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault!” Anya whined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one said it was,” Olga interjected with a pointed look at Maria. They’d all argued the entire way over. Apparently it wasn’t settled. “The important thing is that we’re all safe…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that Mamma and Papa never find out,” Alexei finished. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was one thing they could all agree on. Maria and Alexei would make sure no one saw their little mishap and keep the rumors from spreading, Olga and Tatiana would return home to keep the staff in the house from any reason to be suspicious, and Anya would talk to the mechanic and drive the car back after it was fixed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming,” she heard a shout from the office door. As her siblings were walking out of the garage, a man much younger than Anya expected stepped out. A stained white tank top peaked from underneath his unbuttoned shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dirty hands adjusting the cap on his head. Maria gave her a pointed look before disappearing down the sidewalk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked back at him. He wiggled a toothpick between his teeth and rested his hands on his hips, waiting for her to answer. “Are you the mechanic?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wiped his palm on his pant leg and held out his hand. “Dmitry. What’s the problem?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anya,” she answered and shook his hand once. “It’s just, you’re not what I expected,” she attempted as an explanation for her question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the problem?” he repeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alrighty then. “The car broke down.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clearly,” he smiled with closed lips and dimples popped out of his cheeks. “What’s the problem with it?” he said again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, that’s your job to figure out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyebrows rose and he scoffed. She wasn’t sure why she was irritated— perhaps it was the heat or the fact that she had to hang out in a sketchy place by herself with a rude stranger. Or that he kept adjusting his suspenders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean—” he stepped closer. His grin looked torn between amusement and frustrated politeness and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Now that he was closer he towered over her. She clutched her handbag. “The engine was making a weird noise and then started smoking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see how that’s an issue,” he said, and stepped around her to pop the hood of the car. Smoke billowed out of it, proving her point. He let out a low whistle. “This is a nice engine, hate to be the one to ruin it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you fix it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave her a weird look before tossing his toothpick into a metal bucket by the wall. “‘Course. What caused it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anya sighed. “We were going kind of fast when it started sputtering—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed and nodded. “Mind waiting while I have a look?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she shrugged he ducked his head under the hood, whistling a happy tune she’d heard on the radio, accompanied by the cicadas outside. She studied her cuticles and found a not-so-dusty chair to sit in while she watched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His whistling stopped after a few minutes. “So, Anya, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s a girl like you doing on this side of the tracks?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Usually girls with cars as nice as this don’t come to this side of town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not my car.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over his shoulder as if to check if anyone was listening. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>stole</span>
  </em>
  <span> it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” she exclaimed and he laughed. “It’s my parents’. My brother and sisters and I… we borrowed it without permission today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> steal it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” she repeated. He looked back at her expectantly and she sighed. “If you must know, they left for a business trip in Chicago, so we thought it might be fun to take it for a spin, since they never let us drive it. And when it broke down we thought it would be best to bring it here instead of the other repair shop closer to home so no one would mention it to them...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. “Were you the one driving?” he asked, taking the rag out of his back pocket to wipe down his hands. He lifted his hat so he could brush the sweat off his brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yes, but why does that matter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That explains it then.” he tucked his thumbs underneath his suspenders to pull them down and let them hang at his sides. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Explains what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That you’re a bad driver.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me!” she stood up suddenly. “I am an </span>
  <em>
    <span>excellent</span>
  </em>
  <span> driver.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent drivers don’t cause their cars to combust like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault! Anything could’ve happened, and…” she trailed off when he untucked his damp shirt. “It was running fine, until…” she tried again while he nodded in mock sympathy. He peeled it off of his back and arms, his broad shoulders now bare and a little shiny from sweat. His stained tank top left hardly anything to the imagination. “Look— can you fix the car before my parents get back on Sunday or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirked at her stuttering. “It shouldn’t be a problem.” Then he stepped close enough so she could smell the sweat and gasoline on him and in spite of herself she tilted her head up… and he reached around to hang up his shirt on the hook behind her. A sigh escaped her lips when he stepped away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come back tomorrow for an official diagnosis,” he said when he was back under the hood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked. “Wait, it won’t be done today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” he straightened his back and pointed to the yellowing clock on the wall, “we’re closing soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know this place isn’t as posh as what you’re used to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not why—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re welcome to come check in on it tomorrow. I’m sure it won’t take long once I tinker around a little more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hair had fallen into his eyes, eyes that she somehow knew held a challenge. And Anastasia Romanov never backed down from a challenge. “Fine,” she said. “What time do you open?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you at ten, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned. “Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anya had a feeling something more complicated was bubbling under the surface.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>True to her word, Anya arrived promptly at ten the next morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The June sun was already glaring down despite the early hour. The garage was already open so she took that as a sign she could enter without knocking. Dmitry was bent over the front of the car twisting various valves and screws and when he heard her approach he looked up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right on time,” he said, wiping his forehead and ducking his head back down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you expect me to be late?” she snapped. Her good mood had slipped away for reasons she couldn’t point out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed. “‘Spose not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stepped next to him to peer over at whatever he was working on. “So what’s the verdict?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” He straightened to his full height and leaned on the hood above their heads, his other hand on his hip, stealing Anya’s attention to his waistline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s broken?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Couple things.” He actually explained things very clearly, pointing at the belts that had snapped and the valves that didn’t work correctly, describing why there was smoke and strange noises coming from the engine yesterday. When she asked questions about certain technicalities he answered them patiently. What he lacked in manners he made up with explaining things in a language she understood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It should be done by tonight or first thing in the morning,” he finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good to hear,” she sighed and she meant it. She started walking out of the garage. “I’m going to go to this boutique I saw on my way here. Is there anywhere else around I should explore? I don’t normally spend time on this side of town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing you’d be impressed with,” he muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t know,” he said louder. “I don’t normally find myself shopping.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She narrowed her eyes at him as he leaned back over the car. “I’ll be back in an hour or two to check in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t respond so she just assumed he heard her and she walked down the street. The boutique was more charming than Anya expected. She exchanged small talk with the clerk and picked out a few blouses, and then decided to explore what else the street had to offer. There wasn’t much other than businesses that had already closed or places that had nothing available for her to purchase. There was a curio shop, though, and Anya browsed in there for a while. She stopped for coffee at the diner across the street from the repair shop before making her way back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Find anything interesting?” he asked when she made her way back into the garage, the repeated clicking of a socket wrench drowning out the cicadas’ cries. He had taken off his button down again, probably because of the heat, and she watched the muscles on his back move underneath his tank top while he worked for a second before stepping next to the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I actually thought this curio shop was cute!” she said happily, ready to discuss her discoveries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he laughed. “Cute? You think a dying business is cute?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She crossed her arms. “Yes. There’s a lamp in there my sister would enjoy as a birthday gift.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d better come back soon before it closes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it closing? I didn’t see any signs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “Might as well close, like every other business here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anya didn’t really know how to respond to that so she sat down in the same chair from yesterday, ignoring the oil stained and darkened lines on his forearms rising and falling with every movement, or the way his biceps lifted when he bent his elbows. “So, do you own this shop?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope,” he answered shortly, pulling out a corroded part. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So where’s your boss, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Real talkative today. “Are you the only employee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The only one willing to work on weekends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That seemed to be all he was going to say, so she switched topics. “Do you have any fun summer plans?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Work.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She waited for him to say more but he didn’t. Normally this would be the part where he’d ask her what her plans are, so she decided to offer it up anyway for the sake of conversation. “We don’t have anything planned right now, unfortunately. Papa canceled our summer trip to the coast.” He didn’t say anything. “But I am going to study in Paris in the fall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exciting,” he finally responded. He still kept his head down and focused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you? Are you in school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ask a lot of questions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just...” she sighed. “I’m just trying to pass the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifted his weight. “No school for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She chewed her lip, trying to read him. What was his problem? Yesterday he couldn’t quit nosing into her life but today he seemed determined to remain rude and silent. “Do you think you’ll go to college after all of this is over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He halted and stared blankly at her. “After what’s over? The stock market crash?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yeah—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snorted and shook his head. “This is never going to be over for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyebrows raised. “This won’t last forever, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not for you, maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He straightened up and took off his gloves. “You’re a Romanov, right? Your dad’s a banker?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She narrowed her eyes. “What about me makes you think I’m a Romanov?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” He rolled his eyes. “Who else in this town can afford a car and clothes like this?” He gestured to her dress and she crossed her arms defensively. “Look, your dad isn’t going to lose his job. You’ll be fine with hardly any sacrifices—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not fair, you don’t get to say anything about me or my family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes I do, when you're living off of foreclosing homes and ruining people’s lives!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My family isn’t profiting from that! No one </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>this to happen!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re clearly not suffering from it, either! While the rest of us?” he raised his arms, “We’re stuck. I’ll never stop working here, or get out of this town, or be able to afford an education that could get me a better job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scowled. “You don’t know that. The president is creating programs for people to find other jobs, surely you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get another labor job to do for the rest of my life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you mad at </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> about this? It’s not like I caused this whole mess.” She stepped closer to him and he leaned down with a sneer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not mad at you for </span>
  <em>
    <span>that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m mad at you for thinking you can come in here and complain about things you can live without while I and so many others are barely scraping by.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since when did I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“— And that you think after it’s ‘fixed,’ you can just go back to your summer vacations and frivolities like normal.” His tone bordered on desperate. It was the most emotion he’d shown all day and Anya’s voice rose with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t blame me for the fact that you’re stuck here alone and never going to amount to anything more!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The flicker in his eyes told her the words stung like she’d intended, but he hid it immediately. He smiled bitterly and rose to his full height. She hadn’t realized how close they were. “Have fun living in your mansion while everyone else around here starves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and pointed at the car. “I’m not paying you to insult me, I’m paying you to fix this car. You’ll get your check tomorrow. Have a good evening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was lame and she could tell he knew it, but he only muttered an “Enjoy your day” as she walked out onto the sidewalk.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Your Hands Can Heal, Your Hands Can Bruise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>since this has already been completely written, I'm thinking maybe weekly updates? ish? idk I'm impatient so we'll see lol</p>
<p>a much-needed disclaimer: most of my knowledge about the Great Depression comes from the American Girl doll classic Kit Kittredge and what I remember from APUSH in junior year of high school</p>
<p>thank you again for reading and commenting!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On her walk back across the tracks the next morning, Anya’s stomach swirled with a disgusting, unfamiliar emotion she hadn’t ever dealt with before: guilt. </p>
<p>It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong. Or that his opinion of her actually mattered. And yet… it did. Because as much as she hated being wrong, there was some small semblance of truth in his words, and she couldn’t stand the thought of being disliked for something like that, even if she’d never see him again after this final interaction.</p>
<p>So that was why, when she arrived a few minutes before the shop would open and Dmitry answered the door, she asked to come inside instead of just handing him the cash and bolting. He stepped aside to let her through the office door. </p>
<p>The space was small and a bit cramped, cleaner than the garage, aside from some dust that had settled into the corners and the pile of files on the desk. The single bulb above their heads was turned off but the light filtering through the dirty windows was bright enough. One door led outside and another she wasn’t sure about, maybe a closet?</p>
<p>She gave him the money and his eyes widened at the amount. “This is more—”</p>
<p>She raised her hand. “Your price didn’t include a tip.” He opened his mouth again but she continued, “All five of us chipped in, and we agreed you earned it for saving us from the wrath of our parents tonight.”</p>
<p>He ducked his head and rubbed his neck. Without a cap his hair was an untethered mess, free to stick up in odd angles and fall into his eyes. “Thank you,” he said.</p>
<p>A quiet beat passed.</p>
<p>“Listen, yesterday I—”</p>
<p>“I wanted to say—”</p>
<p>They both shared cautious and embarrassed smiles. “You first,” said Dmitry.</p>
<p>Anya took a deep breath. “I was a little insensitive yesterday.” It wasn’t quite an apology— she was never good at those— but it was close enough.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t on my best behavior either,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Perhaps his pride was almost as sensitive as hers. </p>
<p>“You mean you aren’t that rude to all of your customers?” she teased.</p>
<p>He laughed, a real one that sprouted dimples on his cheeks and made his eyes crinkle. “No, normally I’m charming.” </p>
<p>She raised her eyebrows at that. “That’s hard to believe.”</p>
<p>“I think you’d be surprised,” he smiled, and she had to look away. He cleared his throat and cranked the garage open, the light almost too bright after adjusting to the dark garage. “Car’s all set.”</p>
<p>Everything on her to-do list was accomplished. The car was fixed and ready to go, the service was paid for, and he clearly didn’t think <em> too </em> badly of her now. And yet… she couldn’t make herself leave for some reason. </p>
<p>“Is that your next job for today?” she asked, gesturing to a pile of parts and a half-finished motorbike that caught her attention.</p>
<p>“Oh, uh,” he shuffled his feet, “that’s actually something I’ve been working on for awhile now.” She moved to get a better look, intrigued at the incomplete machine. “I found it in a scrapyard and thought that if I fix it well enough, it could sell.”</p>
<p>“My brother had something similar once,” Anya said. “It wasn’t exactly like this, obviously, it was smaller. And finished.”</p>
<p>He laughed. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“My Mother declared it a death trap and it was gone the next morning.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” </p>
<p>“But this will be cool, though. When it’s finished.”</p>
<p>“Hopefully,” he shrugged.</p>
<p>Another beat passed. The ticking clock on the wall reminded her of why she’d come in the first place. She opened the car door and said, “I should get going, before my parents get home.”</p>
<p>He nodded. “If it breaks down again, you know where to find me.”</p>
<p>“Hopefully it won’t happen anytime soon,” she said after starting the engine and slamming the door shut.</p>
<p>He laughed, but his eyes were downcast, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stepped away. “We wouldn’t want that.” </p>
<p>She tried not to dwell on what it meant.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The next time Anya saw Dmitry was a complete accident.</p>
<p>No, the car didn’t break down again, but she did go back to that curio shop a few days later— it <em> was </em> cute afterall. </p>
<p>Maria came with her this time, anxious to get out of the house. They browsed through all of the little knick knacks and items that were once valuable and precious to their owners, picking up a few things along the way, until Anya discovered the antique book collection. </p>
<p>“This is probably going to take awhile,” Maria said, rolling her eyes, “so come find me when you’re done.”</p>
<p>“I’ll just be a minute,” Anya said, already distracted and flipping through a volume. </p>
<p>“That’s a good one.”</p>
<p>She turned to the source of the voice. “Dmitry.”</p>
<p>His hat was crumpled in his hands, leaving his hair loose over his forehead. He smiled. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you here.”</p>
<p>For some irrational reason she felt caught. “I thought this place was charming enough to return to.” He nodded. “Aren’t you working?”</p>
<p>“I’m on a break,” he shrugged. “Sometimes I come in here to check in on the owner,” he waved back at the kind lady behind the register who returned with a friendly smile.</p>
<p>“You mean people actually <em> enjoy </em> your company?” she teased.</p>
<p>“I told you, I’m charming.” He stepped closer.</p>
<p>She swallowed. “That can’t be it. There’s a catch somewhere.”</p>
<p>He laughed. “She needs a few wind-up toys fixed every once in a while— a lot of this stuff comes in broken. And in return she lets me borrow whatever book I want.” With that, he leaned to reshelve a book before she could move out of the way.</p>
<p>“I didn’t think of you as a reading type.”</p>
<p>“Gotta pass the time somehow. And I didn’t think of <em> you </em> as a reader, either.”</p>
<p>Perhaps they’d both misjudged each other, then. “They’re reliable. The ones I enjoy, at least— you can count on them having a happy ending.”</p>
<p>“Then you’d like…” he bent over to search through the titles, then pulled one off the shelf to hold out to her, “this one.”</p>
<p>She took it and smiled up at him. “This is one of my favorites.”</p>
<p>His smile revealed his unusually-white teeth. “Oh, well, if you’ve read that one already, you might like—”</p>
<p>“Nastya, hurry up!” Maria called from the checkout counter, an impatient hand resting on her hip. </p>
<p>Anya felt exposed, like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “My sister— I should—”</p>
<p>He nodded, stuffing his fists in his pockets and already shuffling away. “Enjoy the books.”</p>
<p>After they purchased their findings and left the store, Maria whispered, “I can’t believe I just witnessed that.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“My own sister trying to flirt with the mechanic boy. Didn't you say he was an asshole?”</p>
<p>Anya laughed uncomfortably. “That wasn’t flirting!”</p>
<p>“You’re right, it was a disaster.”</p>
<p>“We were just talking.”</p>
<p>“Is that why you wanted to come back here? To ‘talk’ to—”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know he’d be here!” Anya exclaimed, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. “There’s nothing going on.”</p>
<p>“I don’t blame you at all, it’s okay,” Maria responded. “Just don’t get caught.”</p>
<p>“I said nothing’s happening!”</p>
<p>“Because if you get caught, you’d have to explain how you met him, and then we’ll <em> all </em> get into trouble and that’s not fair.”</p>
<p>Anya hadn’t thought about that. But it didn’t matter, because… “You don’t have to worry. Nothing will happen,” she repeated.</p>
<p>Maria gave her a look that said she didn’t believe her, but that was the end of their conversation.</p>
<p>The next day, she ran into Dmitry again entirely by surprise. </p>
<p>Her parents had hosted yet another dinner, which meant she had to dress up and make polite small talk with “family friends” twice her age, and she just… couldn’t take it. Everyone pretending nothing was wrong. She was bored, yes, but her restlessness had grown into something worse. Something isolating.</p>
<p>One afternoon she wandered aimlessly, trying to sort out her thoughts. It was innocent enough. She found herself across the tracks again— entirely coincidental— and followed the creek that ran alongside it, careful to step over the tree roots when a patch of woods sprouted around her. She should turn back, she thought. But there was something cathartic about figuring out the source of the stream. So she marched on.</p>
<p>The creek bent and led to a small clearing. She was so focused on the water that she didn’t notice the boy laying across the grass with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and shirt discarded to the side, until she literally tripped over his feet.</p>
<p>“Oh!” she caught her balance. “Sorry—” and then her eyes moved up to a bare chest and a pair of brown eyes. Her mouth went dry.</p>
<p>“Sorry I—” Dmitry scrambled to slide his arms through the sleeves of his button down.</p>
<p>“What are— aren’t you supposed to be working?” she stuttered.</p>
<p>“Not on my day off.” He reached up to fix his collar and grinned. “Are you following me?”</p>
<p>She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, pretending her ears weren’t burning scarlet. “How was I supposed to know you’d be here?”</p>
<p>“Fair enough,” he said, but his smirk didn’t quite go away. “What brings you all the way over here, then?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she shrugged. He still hadn’t buttoned up his shirt so she looked away. “I guess I just needed to think.” He nodded, and because she had nothing better to do, she asked, “May I join you?”</p>
<p>“Sure, but your dress might get muddy—”</p>
<p>Feeling bold, she dropped down next to him, a healthy distance away, and leaned over to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, taking a long drag. “I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”</p>
<p>He swallowed. </p>
<p>She handed it back to him and after another minute of quiet he asked, “What’s on your mind, then?” She shrugged. “There must be a lot to think about for you to wander this far.”</p>
<p>“It’s kind of stupid, but it’s been bothering me.” She sighed and rested on her back, playing with a blade of grass, watching the clouds roll by. “We had brunch with stockholders this morning— well, they used to be stockholders…” she trailed off. She didn’t need to explain. “But my dad can’t help them. None of us can. But we’re still supposed to get dressed up and pretend everything is fine and it all just— it feels like a circus, us parading around. And there’s not an end in sight.” She huffed, blowing a loose hair out of her face. “And when it does end I’m not going to know who I am when I’m not the clown.”</p>
<p>She had no idea why all of these thoughts spilled out of her, but it was nice to lay them out in the open instead of trapping them in her head just to swirl around, no matter how poorly articulated they were. Perhaps he was easier to talk to than she’d care to admit. He was silent for a minute before he leaned back next to her. “You’re not a clown.”</p>
<p>She laughed. </p>
<p>“I’m serious! You’ll be… you’ll find something you love to do. Without anyone telling you what that is.”</p>
<p>She turned her head towards him. He was staring up at the sky, using his hat and hands as a pillow, an arm's length away. She sat up to lean on her hands behind her and cross her legs. “What about you? You’re spending your day lounging in the middle of the woods instead of literally anything else, obviously you’ve got something on your mind, too.”</p>
<p>He shook his head, a ghost of a grin lingering on his face before falling. “I don’t know. My boss is getting married soon…”</p>
<p>“That’s exciting!” Anya said, but paused when he pursed his lips. “Right?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m happy for him, don’t get me wrong!” he rolled onto his side and plucked at the grass. She ignored that he (still) neglected to button up his shirt, that he left those solid muscles out on display, and that since his suspenders were draped to his sides instead of pulled up over his shoulders his pants hung low. “She lives on your side of town and I think they love each other a lot. It’s just… we were planning on getting a job on the rails together so we could travel. And now I don’t think that’s happening.”</p>
<p>“I see.” This was the second time he’d mentioned traveling so it must’ve meant a lot to him. “Can you talk to him about it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, I don’t want to worry him.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure he’d understand. If anything, you’ll keep your friendship intact.” He only shrugged. “Can you not apply for that job anyway?”</p>
<p>“I guess I could,” he blew out a long breath of smoke. “I’ve never been outside of this town before. This might be my only chance before things get worse.”</p>
<p>She understood, maybe more than she realized, what it was like to feel trapped. The desperation to get out. “Then try. You’re a hard worker, surely it’s worth the risk.”</p>
<p>He looked up at her through the hair that’d fallen into his eyes. His brows weren’t raised to tease, nor were they furrowed, but softer, the hard edges now smooth. “Maybe I will, then.”</p>
<p>The corners of her mouth turned upward and she nodded. Then she rose to her feet, brushing off the grass that stuck to the back of her dress, fixing the frills of her sleeves. “I should head back and leave you to your… whatever it was you were doing.”</p>
<p>He sighed. “Brooding.”</p>
<p>She giggled unexpectedly, almost surprised she found that humorous. He grinned. “Enjoy the day, Anya Romanov.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Anya and Tatiana walked arm-in-arm down the road. Over dinner last night, Anya had been uncharacteristically quiet, and everyone had noticed. </p>
<p>She’d sighed. “Do you ever feel useless?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Papa had asked.</p>
<p>“I don’t know. There’s just…” What was the best way to word this? “We’re the most well-off family in this town, but I still feel like there’s nothing I can do to help.”</p>
<p>Papa had looked at her with complete understanding. It was then that she realized he felt the same— spending every day telling clients he couldn’t help. Sometimes when she passed his office and peaked through the door he’d be sitting in silence with his head in his hands, looking crushed by an invisible weight.</p>
<p>That’s when Tatiana mentioned the soup kitchen she volunteered at on Thursdays, and of course Anya was welcome to tag along if she felt compelled to. She still felt like there was something <em> more </em> she should be able to do but she decided this was a good place to start. </p>
<p>Yes, making sure she didn’t mess up the flow of service was a little stressful, but seeing everyone’s grateful faces was actually <em> rewarding. </em> She enjoyed the entire process— the food preparations, the distribution of the meals to everyone, and even cleaning up the dishes in the back kitchen— but the best part was talking to people she wouldn’t normally meet, no matter how heartbreaking it was to witness so many people in need. </p>
<p>The rush died down almost as quickly as it began. She was helping dry the dishes in the kitchen when Tatiana patted her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Okay, Nastya, the place is closing up soon,” Tatiana said, taking her apron off. “We’re free to go home now.”</p>
<p>“Oh, umm,” Anya fiddled with the washcloth. “I’d like to stay and help clean up.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“You can go on ahead, I know the way back.”</p>
<p>Tatiana looked torn. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Of course!” </p>
<p>“Get home before dark,” she replied, and that was that.</p>
<p>Anya stepped out of the kitchen and into the dining area, the dinner rush dissipating. She picked up a broom and started sweeping up crumbs and dust from the creaky wooden floor.</p>
<p>“Romanov?”</p>
<p>She heard the smile in his voice before she even turned around. Of course he was the last customer, straddling the bench and leaning his elbow on the table, a single grease mark above his eyebrow. Other than that he was cleaned up a little more than usual— his shirt was buttoned up all the way at least, and his sleeves stayed cuffed at his wrists instead of rolled up to his elbows. </p>
<p>“Hello, Dmitry,” she tried to cover her shock of seeing him <em> again </em> by sweeping a little more aggressively. </p>
<p>“Didn’t think I’d ever see you at a soup kitchen.”</p>
<p>She paused, placing a hand on her hip. “Don’t act so surprised.”</p>
<p>He raised his eyebrows. “You mean you’re a volunteer?”</p>
<p>“What else would I be?”</p>
<p>He shrugged and took a crust of bread to sop up the rest of his soup. She continued sweeping. “Oh! I wanted to tell you I followed your advice.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I applied for that job,” he said with his mouth full.</p>
<p>Oh. “And?”</p>
<p>“I got it!”</p>
<p>His grin was contagious. “That’s so exciting! When do you start?”</p>
<p>“End of the month.”</p>
<p>Her smile fell. Why was that disappointing? Maybe she thought he’d leave… not so soon. “That’s great.”</p>
<p>“You’re unhappy,” he said.</p>
<p>“No,” she scooped up the crumbs and dirt into a dustpan. “I’m very happy for you.”</p>
<p>He gasped dramatically and swung his leg over to the outside of the bench so his back was against the table. “Are you gonna miss me?”</p>
<p>“No!” she repeated, trying not to spill and mess up her hard work. “I’ll finally be able to leave my house in peace.”</p>
<p>He laughed and gathered up his dishes. Next thing he knew his tall and broad frame was leaning over her, and he whispered, “But who will fix your cars?”</p>
<p>She bit her lip, not sure how to respond. She really wanted to wipe that grease mark off his face but her hands were full and dirty and that would be inappropriate anyway. He smirked like he could read her thoughts.</p>
<p>Instead of looking at the flecks of green in his eyes or the way his lashes kissed the hair that fell over his brow she brushed past him to dump the dust into the trash. “You’ve got something on your face.” </p>
<p>His stupid smile fell as he raised a hand to brush away whatever she noticed. Then she disappeared into the kitchen, ripped off her apron, notified the owner she was leaving, and slipped out the backdoor. </p>
<p>“You sure you don’t need an escort back home?” </p>
<p>She tried not to roll her eyes. Dmitry was the <em> last </em> voice she wanted to hear in that moment. “I’ll be fine, I can handle myself.”</p>
<p>“No doubt you can,” he held up his hands, but he still walked alongside her, and she’d never been more frustrated with her small size. No matter how fast she peddled herself forward his long legs kept up with her in easy strides. “But this neighborhood can get pretty rough after dark.”</p>
<p>“Well, good thing it’s not that dark yet.”</p>
<p>“It will be,” he started walking backwards to talk to her. “For all you know, someone could be following you home this very second, waiting to rob you.”</p>
<p>“You’re right, maybe that person is you.” He only laughed. Despite her foul mood, she wasn’t as annoyed with him as she wanted to be. “Alright,” she conceded. “You can walk me home. But only because you’re worried about me.”</p>
<p>“I’m not worried about you,” he fell into step beside her. “I—” whatever snark he had for her was cut off by someone calling his name. </p>
<p>“Dmitry! It’s been awhile,” the man slurred, another appearing behind him, now blocking their path. The stench of alcohol was unmistakable. “We’re planning something tonight, why don’t you join us for old time’s sake?”</p>
<p>“You know I don’t do that stuff anymore.” he raised his arm in front of Anya and she realized he was afraid— maybe she should be, too.</p>
<p>“Let’s keep going,” she whispered to him.</p>
<p>“Right,” the man chuckled darkly. “Because you think you’re better than us. You’re already getting cozy with the people from the other side of town.”</p>
<p>Dmitry’s fists clenched at his sides and his shoulders stiffened. “Leave her out of this.”</p>
<p>“Do you really think sleeping with the banker’s daughter will—”</p>
<p>“I said <em> leave her out of this,” </em> Dmitry snarled.</p>
<p>“What? You give her a good time and you get to keep your house? Now I know why you don’t run with us anymore,” he laughed, and this time addressed Anya, “When you’re tired of him could I get a turn?”</p>
<p>That was the breaking point. Dmitry yanked the man’s shirt in his fists and lifted him off the ground, shouting, “Don’t <em> touch </em> her.”</p>
<p>“Dmitry, stop!” Anya tried. There was only one way this would end if it escalated anymore. “Stop it!” He tossed the man to the ground with a heavy <em> thud</em> and the other man scrambled forward. Before Dmitry could step closer, she grabbed his forearm. “Walk me home, Dmitry.” He looked down at her and his brow softened. “Walk me home,” she repeated. Then he nodded, breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling, opening and closing his fists. He lifted a hand to wipe the side of his mouth before turning away, sniffing angrily. His hair was sticking up and over his eyes.</p>
<p>Behind them she heard the man scuffle to his feet. They made it about three steps before the second one reached them and threw a clumsy punch at Dmitry, who dodged it easily and clocked him in return.</p>
<p>“Run!” he yelled, taking her hand and sprinting in the opposite direction. They wound through the narrow spaces between buildings before emerging on another street, and he picked the lock of a door, wordlessly declaring they’d hide out here until the coast was clear.</p>
<p>“That was fun,” Anya said after catching her breath.</p>
<p>He gave her a weird look, still bent over with his hands on his knees. “You and I have very different ideas of fun.”</p>
<p>“Who was that guy?” she asked. She could probably answer her own question, but he didn’t seem like the type of guy who fraternized with people like that.</p>
<p>He waved his hand. “An old friend of Dad’s.”</p>
<p>“But not yours?”</p>
<p>He shook his head, still breathing hard. “I worked for him a few years back, but… I hated what it did to me. And everyone here.”</p>
<p>She nodded, understanding enough of what he was implying. Another minute of silence passed as they tried to regulate their breathing, and Anya took in their surroundings. Desks lined up in rows across the creaky wooden floor facing a smeared chalkboard. “Where are we?”</p>
<p>“My old schoolhouse,” he answered as if it were obvious. “It’s probably not as posh as the one you attended, but—”</p>
<p>“No, I—” she slowly walked around, studying the scattered papers on desks as she passed, “we were homeschooled. I’ve always wondered what it was like…”</p>
<p>“Oh.” He found an empty desk to sit on, crossing his arms. “It’s not as exciting as you’d expect.”</p>
<p>“But you get to learn with your friends, study whatever you want, and graduate alongside each other—”</p>
<p>He shrugged. “That’s normally how it goes, I guess.”</p>
<p>She caught his implication. “But… not for you?”</p>
<p>“Not for me,” he smiled sadly, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“What about trade school?”</p>
<p>He shook his head.</p>
<p>“Then who taught you how to fix cars?”</p>
<p>“My father,” he responded with a small smile. “He worked at the shop. When he got sick, I had to drop out to take care of him and work in his place. He never got better, and I never went back.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Dmitry…” she wanted to say she was sorry, but that didn’t really cut it. So much responsibility was placed on his shoulders that he still carried with him, no end in sight, no one to share it with.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” he waved his hand dismissively. “It’s been a few years.”</p>
<p>“But you still miss him?”</p>
<p>“Every day.” He looked directly at her. “Sometimes he would take me to the tracks to watch the trains go by,” then he said in a voice, “‘Where do you think this one’s going, Dima?’”</p>
<p>“Dima?” she tried not to laugh.</p>
<p>“It’s what he called me,” he explained, his smile fading.</p>
<p>She nodded. “It must’ve been lonely,” she started, stepping closer so that there was only one desk between them, “afterwards, I mean.”</p>
<p>“Not really,” he shrugged again.</p>
<p>“So who raised you?” She didn’t want to push him further, but he was already much more vulnerable than he’d ever been with her, so she thought she could try. And she was genuinely curious about him now.</p>
<p>“No one!” He sat up taller, his confidence returning. She raised her eyebrows at his lopsided grin. “Everyone. Technically.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>He paused and studied her for a second. Then he stood. “Do you want to see something?”</p>
<p>She arched an eyebrow, not making the connection. “Is it safe?”</p>
<p>“‘Course!” he held out his hand. “It’s on the way back.”</p>
<p>A cautious smile sprouted on her face to match his and she reached out to accept his calloused and gentle hand. They quietly left the schoolhouse, making sure to relock the door behind them, and made their way down the street again towards her home. He'd point out a significant memory from almost every building.</p>
<p>“I was old enough to live alone, but after work I’d come here for dinner—” he pointed out the diner Anya had visited on her first few days here. “At first I tried stealing, hanging out with Dad’s friends. He… wasn’t exactly ethical when it came to making money. It took awhile to convince people that I wasn’t him, that I’m trustworthy enough. Eventually the owner of this place would meet me in the back with a free meal. And sometimes I’d go here—” he gestured to a house as they passed, “because the lady who lived here would always find something for me to work on or fix in exchange for leftovers.” </p>
<p>This went on for the entire length of the street. Almost every spot held a cherished memory, a moment of kindness he hadn’t forgotten, a small relief from the world that’d been so cruel to him, or a moment where someone took a chance on him. “So when you said everyone raised you,” Anya started, “you really meant… everyone.”</p>
<p>“Yep!” They reached the tracks that intersected with the road— a symbolic dividing line through the town, a line she’d crossed many times now. “One time, some absurd part of me wanted to run away, so when a cargo train was passing through, my plan was to jump on and hitchhike out of here.” He laughed, almost embarrassed at the memory. “Vlad found me waiting in the grass. He sat and asked me to fill him in on the plan, saying he’d come with me, too. I guess talking about the idea outloud made me realize how silly it was to leave everyone high and dry like that. We’ve been partners ever since.”</p>
<p>“So, Vlad is your boss? The one who’s getting married?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” He was still holding her hand. "He's technically just a coworker, but he handles all the paperwork."</p>
<p>“He sounds lovely.”</p>
<p>He smiled down at her. “I think he’d like you.”</p>
<p>She bit her lip and looked away, a blush creeping up her cheeks. </p>
<p>Her conversation with Maria from the other day entered her thoughts. <em> We’ll all get into trouble and that’s not fair. You don’t have to worry, </em> Anya had rushed to respond. <em> Nothing will happen. </em> Now, with one hand stuffed in his pocket and the other waving goodbye as he strolled away after she safely arrived back home, she wasn’t so sure.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. No Doubt in my Mind Where You Belong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you're prepared for the Summer Vibes™ that we deserve but will never get bc it's 2020</p><p>These were some of the first scenes I wrote so I hope you enjoy!! and stay safe &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya had no idea why she was there again.</p><p>Well, she knew why she left her house. Another one of Papa’s meetings in his office had grown loud— the endless list of <em> I’m sorry’s </em> wasn’t cutting it, apparently— so she slipped out. That was simple enough to understand.</p><p>What she couldn’t piece together was why her feet carried her all the way to the repair shop again. She had to figure out an excuse soon because she was now standing at the entrance of the garage, halfway in, halfway out, and he just asked her what she was here for.</p><p>“I’m bored,” she said simply, shrugging as if she hadn’t just agonized over this very moment on the way over. </p><p>He only laughed once, but he welcomed her inside, clearing off a space for her to sit. She happily skipped over to the chair as he went back to work.</p><p>“I’m not gonna be much entertainment right now,” he said, laying back down on the ground to slide underneath the car. </p><p>“That’s fine, I brought a book,” she said to his legs sticking out, one knee swaying left to right.</p><p>“And you couldn’t read it at home?”</p><p>She shrugged. “I get kind of tired being in the house all the time.” The ever increasing despair was closing in on her with every meeting and newspaper and silent dinner— </p><p>“I’m starting to think you’re spending time with me for the wrong reasons.”</p><p>She laughed, “How so?” </p><p>“I think you come here when you get tired of your siblings.”</p><p>Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. “You don’t think we’ve bonded?”</p><p>“Nah.” She laughed again and he asked, “Are they really that bad? I always wanted a brother and sister.”</p><p>“Not really,” she said after a minute. He asked her what they were like, and she told them about her brother and each of her sisters. How they knew exactly how to get underneath her skin, but also how she could always count on them to stand by her side. </p><p>He’d emerged from underneath the car, grease staining his fingers and even a few spots on his bare shoulders, and was now closing the garage door, but still listening and asking questions. </p><p>She glanced up at the clock. “I should probably let you close.” </p><p>He stood up from the car he was leaning against to open the office door and let her pass through. </p><p>“Any fun plans this weekend?” she asked. “Oh, you’re probably working—”</p><p>“Actually we’re closed until Monday,” he said over his shoulder.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“The fair’s coming tomorrow, everyone’s closed,” he said like it was obvious.</p><p>“Oh.” She played with part of her skirt. “Is that fun?”</p><p>He halted in his tracks and turned around to face her. “Have you never been to the fair?”</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“Wow, you’re in worse shape than I thought.”</p><p>She scoffed. “Is it really that big of a deal?”</p><p>“Yes!” He sounded like he was about to laugh and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Alright. Clear your schedule. Tomorrow, you’re getting the full fair experience.”</p><p>She raised her eyebrows and stepped closer. “Is that a challenge?”</p><p>“Or an invitation,” he stepped even closer, matching her stance. “You’d have fun.”</p><p>His hands rested on his hips, dripping with confidence. What did she have to lose? “Fine.” </p><p>His smile grew. “Meet me here at three. And wear something nice.”</p><p>“Fine,” she repeated, and turned around to walk out the door before a grin could spread across her face. “See you tomorrow, then.” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Once again, Anya arrived right on time, and as promised she wore one of her nicer dresses— robin’s egg blue with white pattern and trim. </p><p>“It’s open,” he shouted in response to her knock on the door. “Sorry I’m running late, I’m not exactly a plumber but someone needed help fixing their sink and—” he clambered down a staircase she hadn’t seen before, hair combed back nicely, an undershirt that was whiter than normal stretched over his chest and tucked into a pair of trousers without any stains. He stopped a breath away from her.</p><p>“Hello,” she said after a second.</p><p>His eyes flickered up and down and he cleared his throat. “I can’t find my shirt, but you’re welcome to come upstairs and wait until I do.”</p><p>“Wait, you live here?” she asked, following him up the stairs. The door she’d guessed was a closet was actually hiding this staircase.</p><p>“Yeah. Vlad let’s me stay because I work so often anyway.”</p><p>Upstairs was a simple room, only furnished with a neatly-made bed, a round table with two chairs, a dresser, and a small couch with holes in the cushions. Everything was tidy and put away— other than a stack of laundry on the couch— but not a single spot of sentimentality anywhere. </p><p>He cleared off a spot on the couch cushion and gestured for her to sit. She took her time, studying the room, the wood creaking underneath her feet. He returned to his search for whatever shirt he’d planned to wear. </p><p>“Have you started packing?” she asked.</p><p>“For what?” He was bent over an open drawer and she could only see the shoulder blades on his back from where she was sitting.</p><p>“Your new job.”</p><p>“Oh.” He stood up, still looking away from her, holding the targeted shirt— with short sleeves rolled up at the cuffs, a simple striped pattern, and no stains— in his hand. He slowly turned around as he pulled his arms through and fixed the collar. “I actually didn’t get it.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry,” she bit her lip. Now would be an inappropriate time to smile. “Didn’t you say they hired you?”</p><p>He shrugged as he buttoned up his shirt. “Yeah, but they didn’t need me after all, I guess.” </p><p>“I’m sorry, I know that meant a lot to you.”</p><p>“It’s really no big deal,” he said, pulling his suspenders over his shoulders and smoothing the wrinkles out. “Ready?”</p><p>She rose to her feet, her eyes barely reaching his sternum. The weight, or rather the question, of what tonight held fell on her chest, especially now when he was looking down at her with a lopsided grin, dimples popping out, and his hair clean and combed. She was toeing a line that she was dangerously close to crossing— or maybe she'd already crossed it dozens of times now as easily as she crossed the railroad tracks that divided their lives. “Let’s go.”</p><p>The fairgrounds were about a ten minute walk away. Anya tried not to dwell on how often their shoulders brushed, or how quickly they fell into conversation, or how easy it was to smile with him. There was just… something irresistible drawing her to him that was getting harder and harder to ignore. </p><p>“So tell me again,” she started after he’d purchased the tickets and handed one to her, “what <em> exactly </em> there is to do here?”</p><p>“What’s <em> not </em> here to do?” He said, grinning as they walked through the gates. Children squealed and laughed around them, vendors announcing oddities and local foods and clothing for sale. The air was thick with the smell of fried meat and grilled corn. “Let’s see… there’s games where you can win prizes, rides, and there’s some exhibits further down…” he trailed off, moved his hand to muse his hair but stopped midway, as if he remembered how nice it looked. “There’s a lot.”</p><p>“Well, you promised the full experience, so what are we doing first?”</p><p>He looked around. “I’d say let’s do games first since we’re here, but I don’t think you like losing.”</p><p>She laughed. “Try me.”</p><p>She smoked him in everything. And she wasn’t shy about it either— humility wasn’t one of her virtues, admittedly. The only game he won was this one where the player had to toss a ball to knock over some empty milk glasses, which he did successfully on the first try. </p><p>“Don’t look at me like that,” he said after the vendor gave him a small wooden duck as a prize. “Am I not allowed to have one small victory today?”</p><p>“It’s not fair,” she whined. “You’ve been here a million times. You’ve practiced.”</p><p>He laughed. “Let’s do something that doesn’t damage your ego.”</p><p>She huffed but followed him anyway. They passed more games and bizarre crops, and when she declared herself hungry, he promised the perfect meal. He ordered something from a vendor and handed her a stick with unidentified meat skewered onto it. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had pork before,” he said, watching her hesitate.</p><p>The meat was now identified. She took a bite, juices dripping onto her chin, and she couldn’t contain a hum of approval. “This is delicious.”</p><p>“Told you you’d like it,” he laughed. They also got grilled corn on the cob and, afterwards, fresh ice cream, and they sat on a haystack to finish their cones. The sun was starting to set. How long had they been there? </p><p>She wiped her fingers with her napkin. “Let me see the event schedule.” He obeyed, handing her the pamphlet. “Ooh!” She flipped it around so he could see. “There’s a magic show in a few minutes.”</p><p>“Those are just scams,” he said, waving his hand. </p><p>“But it could be fun,” she stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “And you promised the full fair experience, remember?”</p><p>He sighed. “Fine.”</p><p>Anya was <em> enthralled </em> by the magician. Dmitry wasn’t as impressed, but she thoroughly enjoyed every second of the show, from the card tricks to when he disappeared off the stage. </p><p>“See, that was fun,” she poked him in the ribs when the crowd dissipated.</p><p>“I’ve seen better.”</p><p>“Have you?”</p><p>He looked at her. “Are you afraid of heights?”</p><p>“No,” she arched a brow.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Next thing she knew, they were standing in line for the ferris wheel. He helped her into the seat and she bounced her knees in anticipation. “I’ve always wanted to ride one of these.”</p><p>“This used to be my favorite,” he said. “I haven’t ridden it in years.”</p><p>They slowly started to rise forward off the ground. “You mean you don’t do this every time you come?”</p><p>“It’s been a long time since I came.”</p><p>“Oh.” They were well off the ground now. “Why?”</p><p>He frowned. “My dad used to take me every year. After he died I just… there were too many memories.” </p><p>The breeze picked up at the higher altitude, making a few strands of hair loosen onto his forehead. She hadn’t realized how hard it must’ve been for him to come back, to face the happiness he once felt, to share something that had once been so personal. This was a gift much more special than she could’ve ever imagined. </p><p>Anya took his hand in both of hers and laced their fingers together. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said with a small smile. </p><p>He swallowed, looking down at their hands and then back up to her, and nodded. </p><p>They halted at the top. Down below, more people were boarding into their own carts so they had a few minutes of waiting ahead of them. The sky had transformed from a clear blue to a dazzling array of colors as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, painting the entire town various shades of violets and pinks and oranges below.</p><p>“If you were still in school,” she started, ignoring the fact that she caught him staring, “what would you have studied?”</p><p>“Engineering,” he said without hesitation. “That was my plan, anyway. I wasn’t meant for fixing cars.”</p><p>“I think you’d be good at that,” she replied, and she meant it. She couldn’t picture him not working with his hands or his mind.</p><p>He grinned. “What about you? You said you’re studying in Paris in the fall?”</p><p>“Yes, I…” she bit her lip. “I’m supposed to study museum curatorship, but I don’t know if that’s right for me.” </p><p>“That sounds... interesting.”</p><p>“I don’t know if it’ll happen now,” she sighed. “Papa says there’s some ‘political unrest’ and it might be too dangerous for Russian-Americans to visit.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.</p><p>She shrugged. “It could be worse. There’s other schools here I can attend with similar programs. If I want to.”</p><p>“Yeah but that’s—” his eyes locked with hers, “that’s still really disappointing.”</p><p>She looked down. The wheel started spinning again and they began their slow descent back to the earth. “I really did want to see the city again. There’s nothing like it.”</p><p>“I can’t imagine,” he leaned back. “I’ve never been anywhere but here.”</p><p>“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”</p><p>He sighed and adjusted in his seat. “I try not to dwell on what-ifs.”</p><p>“Don’t think of it as an if, think of it as… a <em> when </em> instead. No money issues, no wars happening.”</p><p>“That will only disappoint me if I can’t go.”</p><p>“You’re spoiling the game.”</p><p>He laughed. “New York. I hear the work’s good.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “That’s not a fun reason!”</p><p>“I didn’t realize there were so many rules!” he complained, but he gave in with a sigh. “Fine. St. Petersburg, where my family came from.”</p><p>The thoughtfulness surprised her. “That’s a good one.”</p><p>He grinned and something funny happened in her stomach.</p><p>When they made it back down he helped her out of the seat, their hands still intertwined, and she didn’t mind one bit.</p><p>“I think that’s everything,” he said after a few steps and he swiped back some loose hairs that had fallen onto his forehead. “Except…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I don’t know if you’d be interested.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Well,” he rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head. “There’s usually music and dancing in the big barnhouse—”</p><p>She gasped. “Can we go??”</p><p>“I mean, sure, but it might not be as fancy as what you’re used to—”</p><p>“Even better,” she grinned. “You can show me. I’m a quick learner.”</p><p>He smiled in return. “Alright.”</p><p>The dances she’d attended were usually very formal and quiet, but this was completely different. They entered the double doors and everyone was lined up in circles, laughing and talking loudly, each song full of joy and life and something thrilling she couldn’t describe. She’d never been more excited.</p><p>Dmitry had to lean in close and yell so she could hear him over the music and crowd. He guided her through the first few steps of the next dance and she picked it up easily, but what was the most surprising to her was how… <em> good </em> he was. Once she got her rhythm he’d lift her hand to twirl her under his arm, making her giggle, his feet never missing a step, and he held himself tall with more confidence than she’d ever seen anyone carry. <em> Confident, </em> not arrogant, like she’d originally labeled him. Of all the things he’d shown Anya today, this was the most impressive.</p><p>After a few songs the music slowed, and Dmitry awkwardly stuffed his hands into his pockets and stepped away. </p><p>“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, grabbing his arm. He opened his mouth to say something and hesitated, so she continued, “You promised me the full county fair experience, remember?” </p><p>He only smiled shyly and rubbed his neck, ducking his head. “I guess so.”</p><p>“Don’t be weird about it.”</p><p>He laughed and shook his head. “I’m never weird!”</p><p>She hummed in disagreement but stepped closer anyway. </p><p>He tentatively put his hands on her waist, his long fingers reaching around her back. Her fingers slid up his arms, curling around his shoulders, and then over to his shoulder blades to move even closer, one arm snaking to loop around under his. His hands moved up her back to hold her tighter as they swayed. Her face pressed into his shoulder, his shirt smelling of grass and campfire smoke, his breath tickling her neck. This felt more like a hug than a dance. Like an embrace. </p><p>What had started as something innocent suddenly grew too intimate. The song danced across her heart and she had to face the realization that the warmth and comfort she felt in his steady arms was very, very real. </p><p>After a few minutes or a few years the song ended and the crowd cheered, but Anya still clung to his shoulders, even after they’d stopped swaying, unable to decipher what to do with these confusing emotions. </p><p>“Want to see something?” Dmitry asked in her ear. Anya pulled away, blinking out of her daze, fingers tightening around the sleeve of his shirt. She nodded and he grinned.</p><p>He pulled her hand through the crowded dance floor and back outside. The sun had set completely and a breeze helped ease away the sticky humidity, fireflies revealing themselves in the dark. They moved through the crowds around the games they’d played earlier, through the lines at the food stands, and even through the front gates.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Anya asked, sort of laughing.</p><p>“You’ll see!” Dmitry answered. “This is the best part.” They climbed up the grassy hill at the edge of the field and he gestured for her to sit down. Now far away from the action and the noise, she could hear crickets chirping in the silence, the air free of smoke and replaced with the sweet smell of grass. He plopped down next to her and leaned back on his hands, his fingers resting on hers. “Any minute now.”</p><p>“But the fair is down <em> there,” </em> Anya said.</p><p>“Trust me, this is the best view.”</p><p>She gave him a quizzical look when a flash lit his face. She gasped— fireworks blasted above them, shimmering and dazzling. She laughed in delight. Nothing she’d ever been forced to attend— not the banquets, parties, horse races— would compare to this moment. </p><p>Anya caught Dmitry staring again and he turned his head quickly. They were awfully close, shoulders brushing when she laughed, light from the fireworks moving across his face and reflecting in his eyes. When he looked back at her, she didn’t look away. </p><p>His eyes dropped down to her lips and that was enough permission for her to hurdle the remaining barrier between them and press her lips to his. </p><p>She pulled away a fraction, grinning at his dumbfounded expression. He blinked and sat forward. For a second she thought he was about to stand up but then he cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek delicately, and he leaned in again, nose pressed against hers, and she gripped the fabric of the front of his shirt and then his suspender to pull him even closer. He smiled against her mouth. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her neck to keep her close and tangled his fingers through her hair, his other hand holding himself up and resting on hers in the grass. She tugged at his shirt collar while he tilted his head to nip at her lips and leave her breathless. His mouth moved over hers slowly, sensually, as if time was invented for the sole purpose of giving them this moment. Kissing Dmitry made her feel the most free she’d ever felt in her lifetime— she transformed into the stars peaking out in the cloudless night, into the breeze making the leaves shudder, into the light from the fireworks dancing across the grass and his face. </p><p>So she allowed herself to enjoy the taste of him, the taste of freedom, with sparks exploding in the sky and in her gut, the irregular pops of light and sound matching the rhythm of her heart.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Heart's on Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello friends!! I know it seems silly to post about fictional characters rn, but I decided to resume updating this in case anyone needs an escape, even though this has nothing to do with current events. </p><p>However, I encourage you to donate what you can, either directly to the NAACP (https://secure.actblue.com/donate/naacp-1) or by watching these videos where the ad revenue goes towards the BLM movement: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCgLa25fDHM&amp;feature=emb_logo</p><p>Thank you for reading and stay safe, alert, and informed!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya planned to come back the next day. She was buzzing all night almost to the point where she was afraid she’d break out of her own skin, but she’d forgotten about the picnic brunch her family had planned. So she stuffed her heart back into her chest and stuffed herself into a yellow dress. </p><p>Then there was the dinner party, and the next day another lunch at the country club. Why she was expected to attend these made no sense. Before tasting freedom she could tolerate them, but now she was… well, bored— but more than that. <em> Dissatisfied. </em> What a distasteful word. But it was true. She knew she could do more, that there was more out there for her to enjoy.</p><p>Three whole days after the night at the fair she could finally return. She knew Dmitry would be working again now that it was Monday, so she just let herself into the garage. </p><p>Her footsteps announced her arrival and he turned in her direction, his bare shoulders glossy from sweat, the not-so-white tank top freshly stained, suspenders stretched tight. He looked delightfully surprised to see her. “I was wondering if you’d come back.”</p><p>He said it casually, but the fact that he was so unsure propelled her closer so she could take his hand. “I would’ve come sooner,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. </p><p>An eyebrow rose and a small, teasing smile sprouted on his face but when he leaned down she stopped him, glancing at the wide open garage and the unobstructed view from the street. </p><p>She tugged him into the office and after closing the door behind them she whispered, “It’s just, I haven’t told my family about you yet…”</p><p>He nodded slowly. “And you want to keep it quiet.”</p><p>“For now. This town is hungry for gossip.”</p><p>“We can be careful.” At last he grinned fully, dimples appearing on both cheeks. “Could be fun.”</p><p>She smiled back with her lip caught between her teeth. “I know you’re technically working right now, but…”</p><p>He laughed once and leaned down to press his mouth to hers. She hummed in approval, pulling him closer, and he lifted her up to set her on a desk so he didn’t have to bend down so far, shoving the piles of documents to the ground. Now she was free to admire the softness of his hair, despite the sweat from the relentless heat, her fingers tossing his hat aside and weaving between the strands at the nape of his neck, her elbows resting on his sturdy shoulders. He sighed against her cheek and pushed himself even closer. Her lungs filled with the smell of sweat and gasoline and smoke, and something entirely, uniquely <em> him. </em> </p><p>The kiss at the fair had been soft and sensual, but this was different, as if they were making up for the few days spent apart, all teeth and breath and heat. He broke away to leave a trail of searing kisses down her neck, down to what little skin of her collarbone peaked through her dress, and back up to her lips again, where he was welcomed warmly. </p><p>Her knees framed his hips, his hands framed hers, and she decided there were worse places to spend her summer.</p><p>Kissing Dmitry became Anya’s new favorite pastime. When her lips weren’t on his, they'd talk, or sometimes she’d bring a book and read aloud while he worked and he’d smile fondly to himself when he thought she wasn’t looking. </p><p>Most of the time she came in the afternoons or evenings. She’d somehow escape her home with increasingly-obscure excuses and make her way across town a couple days a week, sit either in the chair or on his work bench (he’d cleared an area off for this purpose) and set her basket of food down for them to share. Usually Anya would volunteer at the soup kitchen in the evenings. She'd focus on her tasks, he'd linger for the entire night, and they'd exchange pleasantries like old acquaintances, standing near each other but avoiding hands and hiding smiles under bitten lips. </p><p>Over the weeks she learned a lot about him and his mannerisms. He whittled in his free time, bent over with his brow furrowed, studying the block of wood with such intensity. He whistled only when he was at his happiest. When his hands weren’t busy they searched for something to fiddle with— flipping a coin in his pocket, reaching to light a cigarette, twirling whatever tool was closest. He enjoyed reading but he said he couldn’t always focus very well so it took some time for him to get through a book. He wasn’t quite an outdoorsman but he enjoyed sitting by the creek in the grass or on the docks by the lake— she finally found where the creek began. He wore a cap while he worked and ran errands but he didn’t seem to wear it much elsewhere. When he had it on he was always messing with it, lifting it and fixing his hair, taking it off completely to crumple it in his hands, or even use it to gesture as an extension of himself. When she wanted to run her fingers through his hair she was sometimes forced to drastic measures, swiping the hat off of him and setting it on her own head, and his laugh made it all worth it. </p><p>It was increasingly more difficult to resist touching him. Running her fingers through his hair was her favorite, but her hands also frequented his shoulder in passing, or trailed along his jawline, squeezing his bicep or his knee, playing with his shirt. He was the same way— always resting his hand on her back, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, pushing a curl over her shoulder, or tightening her skirt into his fists, fingers hovering over lines they couldn’t uncross.</p><p>He really was beautiful, in a tragic sort of way. His shoulders were broad but hunched. His right one bothered him in particular after a long day of work— from falling out of a tree as a child, he said, and it never healed quite right. His smile was dazzling but there was a sadness behind it. One dimple stayed visible on his cheek after his smile faded, almost like a scar. His hair fell into his eyes, not because he was too lazy or apathetic to fix it, but rather he sometimes didn’t see himself as someone worth being seen. Most of the time, though, she could tell he knew his appearance was above average. If he caught her staring— more often than she cared to admit— he’d smirk like the insufferable boy he was and she’d have to roll her eyes so as not to feed his vanity any more than necessary.</p><p>Today she arrived around closing. The air was thick with humidity, the heavy clouds hanging overhead, threatening a downpour. He was hunched over another vehicle when she entered the garage.</p><p>“So,” she rested a hand on his shoulder in greeting. “I didn’t bring snacks today, but I figured you wouldn’t mind…” He still had his head bent under the hood. When he didn’t respond with a quip she was expecting she tried again. “Hey, what’s wrong?”</p><p>His hands stilled and he sighed, finally rising to his full height, not quite meeting her eye. A muscle in his jaw fluttered when he turned his head in her direction.</p><p>“Oh my god, what happened?” she gasped. </p><p>One eye was swollen shut, a cheek bruised, a lip busted open and scabbed over. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“I said I’m fine.” </p><p>“Where else are you hurt?”</p><p>“Nowhere,” he waved a hand, still looking at the ground. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Did you— do you have medicine or something?”</p><p>“Anya, it’s <em> fine, </em> I’ve been through worse. You should see the other guy,” his weak smile fell when she didn’t respond.</p><p>Cold anger settled over her heart. “Sit down.”</p><p>“I have to work—”</p><p>
  <em> “Sit down.” </em>
</p><p>He sat down.</p><p>She grabbed a few clean rags and rushed outside to run them under the cold tap. When she got back she asked, “Do you have a first aid kit somewhere?”</p><p>“There’s a box of bandages in the office, and I think there’s a bottle of vodka somewhere.”</p><p>She sighed and handed him a rag. “Put pressure on your eye.”</p><p>She found the supplies easily— if they could even be called supplies— and came back to patch him up. On his hand holding the rag to his eye, she noticed purple and broken skin across his knuckles. The first step would be to clean that up. She demanded he held out his hands as she poured vodka on them to disinfect the area and he winced.</p><p>The first few minutes passed quietly as she cleaned and bandaged tucking in the angry, swollen marks tightly underneath the clean white fabric. From the ground where she was kneeling she said, “You still haven’t told me what happened.”</p><p>His jaw twitched. “Someone jumped me last night on my way back.”</p><p>She finished wrapping the bandage around one hand and moved onto the next. “Did you report it?”</p><p>“It's not worth the trouble,” he laughed bitterly. “Besides, I didn’t let him take anything, not that I had anything worth stealing.” </p><p>Another minute of quiet passed, then, when she finished wrapping the other hand, he whispered, “I just hope you’re not ashamed of me.”</p><p>Her eyes snapped up to his. “Of course I’m not ashamed of you. Why would you even think that?”</p><p>He looked down. “You seem upset.”</p><p>She took his hand and pressed a kiss where some skin was peaking through, shuffling closer so she could peel his other hand and the cloth from his face. “I’m planning to murder whoever did this to you.” He laughed loudly and she grinned. “And I’m a little upset you didn’t treat these cuts sooner.”</p><p>“I’ll be more careful,” he said, kissing her forehead, “I promise.”</p><p>Thunder rumbled ominously overhead and the sky released the rain, like releasing a breath it’d been holding, the air cooling off in relief. He was trying to reassure her, but she knew this wasn’t the first time and she doubted this would be the last. How many times had this happened? Who treated his wounds then? What happened when the angry wounds that lingered weren’t soothed and wiped clean, ready for a fresh start after healing?</p><p>She pushed his hair back and kissed his cheek, right on the bruise, tracing a thumb around his jaw and dimple on the not-so-injured side. “At least you’re still handsome.”</p><p>He laughed again, the sound making her heart flutter. “Good, I was worried.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>This went on for the rest of June and bled seamlessly into July. They fell into rhythm together easily, spending more and more afternoons in each other’s company. Sometimes they met outside the shop to find other ways to stay entertained in the exhausting heat. They swam in the lake when it was too hot, lounging lazily on the creaky wooden dock, discussing anything from the mundane daily chores to how terrified she was of what would happen in August to wondering when this whole national nightmare would end. Other times they’d eat together at the diner across the street, careful to limit physical contact to brushing knees together when no one was looking. </p><p>Tonight they were supposed to meet by the creek, but as the sun sunk lower in the sky and he still hadn’t appeared, Anya decided to see what was holding him up.</p><p>When she knocked on the frame of the garage entryway, Dmitry looked over his shoulder and met her eyes, and his grin was rich enough to pull the nation out of its economic slump. He rushed to set his tools down and take off his gloves, stumbling over various parts on the ground. When he leaned in to greet her with a kiss she stopped him with a palm pressed against his chest and pulled out an embroidered handkerchief to wipe the grease marks off his face. He smiled fondly the whole time, eyes flickering down to her lips, but she stayed vigilant in her task. Finally, she stuffed the kerchief away and looked up at him expectantly. He grinned and eagerly complied, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips to hers, making her toes curl. </p><p>“Hi,” he said when he pulled away.</p><p>She couldn’t help but smile. “Hi.” </p><p>“I’m so sorry— there was this last-minute client, and he needed it finished before tomorrow morning and—”</p><p>“It’s okay,” she brushed a finger over his lips. “I’m just glad to see you.”</p><p>He sighed. “You didn’t have to wait.”</p><p>“I wanted to.”</p><p>He grinned. “Well I’m glad you did. Yesterday you said you wanted to show me something?”</p><p>She did. He’d revealed so much to her over the past few weeks, she wanted to take him to places that were special to her, too. And maybe they’d become special to him.</p><p>She brought Dmitry to the towering marble library just over on her side of the tracks. He seemed to be in awe, his jaw hanging loose, eyes wide, staring up at the endless rows of shelves. She held his hand and guided him through her favorite sections. The hushed peace made them quieter than usual, but they didn’t need to talk much. The spines of books he touched with delicate fingers spoke louder than any words that could come through his mouth. The occasional whisper or “you’d like this one” was enough. </p><p>Hours or maybe weeks passed by as they browsed. He looked ten years younger, not as hunched, eyes filled with wonder, a small smile on his lips the entire time. Every once in a while he’d glance in her direction and his smile would widen.</p><p>Dmitry offered to carry the books she wanted to check out. He held them all with one hand, and with the other he brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes, almost thoughtlessly, as if the action was instinctual and part of his daily routine. She blinked up and something rose up from her gut and into her chest.</p><p>The feeling was too big for words, but she tried to find the right one anyway, and when she did the word was too big to say, so it sat in a lump in the back of her throat. The feeling was too big for her skin to contain it, too big for her heart to keep up with. She wanted him to know every part of her, to know her family, even if that meant breaking the fragile dream they’d been living in. She wanted to shout from the rooftops that this wonderful boy was hers.</p><p>And the thought terrified her.</p><p>The words were stuck constricting her throat, tightening until she couldn’t breathe, suffocating her. Who knew what would happen if the words spilled out. Instead, all she could do was look away and mutter that it was getting late and she should head home soon. </p><p>He walked with her until they made it a couple houses away from hers, content just listening to the crickets and wind rustling the trees, the moonlight making the white picket fences glow bright and sickly clean. Before she could go further he kissed her hand, his eyes bright in the dark, and told her thank you for tonight.</p><p>If only he knew.</p><p>In spite of the paralyzing fear and uncertainty of her own feelings tumbling around in her gut she had to bite her lip to contain her grin as she snuck back inside her home. She was as quiet as she always was when she stayed out too late, but when she tiptoed through the living room to sneak upstairs a voice made her jump.</p><p>“Nice night?” </p><p>All three of her sisters were sitting on the couch in their pajamas, pretending not to be interested in what Anya was up to. </p><p>She shrugged but she knew it was already too late. “It’s nice out tonight.”</p><p>“Where were you?” Olga asked, always the one with the practical questions.</p><p>“The library,” she answered nonchalantly, waving a book Dmitry had picked out for her. Thankfully she didn’t have to lie yet.</p><p>“We told Papa you were at the soup kitchen again,” Maria said, placing her teacup on the side table. “I didn’t think you or he would like it if I said you were out with that car mechanic.”</p><p>Anya sighed and sat down across from them. There was no point in denying it now. “How long have you known?”</p><p>“A while.”</p><p>She didn’t really know how to respond now that it was all out in the open. Her sisters shared a glance amongst themselves and Tatiana sat forward. “Nastya, you need to stop seeing this boy.”</p><p>This was the last thing she needed to hear right now. “We aren’t doing anything wrong.”</p><p>“Look, I didn’t want to bring this up when it started, at first I thought it was just something you were doing because you were bored, but it’s lasted a lot longer than any of us really expected and—”</p><p>“Then why are you bringing it up at all?”</p><p>“Because it’s reckless and selfish.”</p><p>“I told you, we aren’t doing anything wrong—”</p><p>“Get out of your fantasy and think about the family. Our reputation is already being soiled! What if Papa finds out?? Or worse— Mamma??”</p><p>How could the family reputation get any worse than it already was? Besides, she and Dmitry hadn’t told anyone. “They won’t.”</p><p>“So what? You’ll just keep sneaking in and out of the house until summer’s over? I know you’re bored and he’s attractive, but this is no proper way to—”</p><p>“I’m only keeping it hidden so that I don’t have to explain how we met!” Anya’s voice rose a little too loud and all three quickly shushed her. “It wouldn’t be fair to get you all in trouble for what happened to the car,” she continued quieter.</p><p>“Quit being naive, this isn’t about the car!” The hushed outburst from Olga made Anya cross her arms. “You know how those boys on his side of town behave! They’ll do anything to get out of debt.” </p><p>“You think I’m letting someone use me because Papa owns the bank? That’s ridiculous.”</p><p>“Are you sure he hasn’t used your relationship to boost his reputation?” before Anya could answer Tatiana said, “Someone asked me today what he had to do for me to keep his house from foreclosure.”</p><p>That shocked Anya more than anything. She didn’t have an explanation for that, and the thought of her family actually getting hurt from something worse than gossip… she was stunned. </p><p>“How many others know?” Tatiana continued.</p><p>“And what if Pierre finds out and calls off our engagement?” Olga said.</p><p>“Dmitry wouldn’t do that. We agreed not to tell anyone.” But she always thought he was too proud to be kept a secret… no, he was smart. He knew the risks.</p><p> “Nastya, we just want you to be more careful. For the sake of the family,” she patted her knee. “And your heart.”</p><p>Anya pulled back. “I <em> am. </em> Dmitry’s a hard worker.”</p><p>“He doesn’t <em> seem </em> like a hard worker since you two are constantly together,” Maria muttered, finally speaking up. “And that explains the man who approached Tatya today.”</p><p>“He— we don’t—” her words were getting too jumbled on top of her confusing emotions from just a few moments ago. "Wait, why are <em>you</em> upset about this? You're the one who laughed about it."</p><p>"I said <em>don't get caught!"</em> Maria exclaimed with a pointed look. "You weren't as careful as you thought you were, I guess."</p><p>“Has he looked into any of the schools or welfare programs he qualifies for?” Olga interjected.</p><p>“He had a job lined up,” Anya’s brow knit. “But it didn’t work out.”</p><p>“Has he applied for anything else?”</p><p>“I don’t know! What does that have to do with anything?”</p><p>They all shared another heavy glance. “Maybe he’s getting too comfortable.”</p><p>Anya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He’s not getting more clients because of me! He’s never asked for anything like that!”</p><p>“Don’t get upset with us! I’m just telling you now before you find out the hard way.”</p><p>“Or before you’re in too deep,” Maria said with a little laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood, unaware of… everything. “You’re a lot softer than you like to show.”</p><p>Anya clenched her jaw and looked away.</p><p>“Oh no,” Maria tried to move into her line of vision. “You’re not in love with him yet are you?”</p><p>“I—” the feeling from earlier in the evening came back again, rising from her gut and getting lodged in her throat. Her sisters looked more concerned than they had the entire night so she buried her face in her hands to avoid their pitying gazes. She was right to fear this new emotion, one that was too big and dangerous, especially when mixed with the seeds of doubt now sprouting in her heart. “I can’t lie anymore.” To them. To Mamma and Papa. To Dmitry. To herself.</p><p>The silence stretched on for what felt like a year. Finally, quiet as a breeze, Maria whispered, “You know what you have to do, then.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Anya barely slept. So many moments from the past month swirled in her head— the fair, the peaceful hours by the lake, encounter with the thug, Dmitry claiming he didn’t get the job he was perfectly qualified for, the explanation of his troubled past, and every touch and kiss and laugh in between. She trusted him but she didn’t trust the world and what it made people do.</p><p>How much of it had been true?</p><p>The only thing that made her question was how other people knew. Her sisters were witnesses to her absence, but the strangers approaching Tatiana? They’d been so careful, there was no way… unless he broke his promise. And there was no reason for him to break his promise unless her sisters were right.</p><p>Gut in knots, she marched to the shop and let herself in through the garage, faithfully ignoring his charming whistling. “Who did you tell?” she asked instead of her usual greeting.</p><p>“Hmm?” he looked up from the engine he was working on and wiped the hair from his eyes. “Tell what?”</p><p>“About us?”</p><p>He held her gaze for too long. “No one.”</p><p>“Don’t lie to me.”</p><p>“I’m not—”</p><p>“Then why are people coming to my sister asking for favors?”</p><p>“What kind of favors?”</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>He rubbed his face in his hands. “I didn’t— I only told Vlad.”</p><p>Her stomach lurched, that was all the confirmation she needed. Her sisters were right. She turned away. “I can’t believe this.”</p><p>“What? Anya, what’s the big deal?”</p><p>“Is that why you stopped looking for another job? Or why you didn’t fight harder for the one you were qualified for?” he hesitated so she continued, “You knew that my family’s reputation would keep you comfortable for a long time?”</p><p>“That’s not—”</p><p>“Then why? Is it that you’re afraid you’ll never amount to anything?”</p><p>His mouth hardened into a firm line. “How am I supposed to ‘amount’ to anything if I’m stuck entertaining you all summer?”</p><p>So, that’s what she was to him. Someone he had to entertain. “My sisters warned me about you.” He tried to say something but she held up her hand. “That you were just using me the whole time.”</p><p>“Anya I—”</p><p>“Don’t.” Tears pricked her eyes and she had to look away. “I won’t be distracting you anymore. And you won’t be benefiting from my company.”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant—”</p><p>But she was already gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alexa play Doubt Comes In (Hadestown 2019)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I and Love and You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is it!!! I'm really proud of how this turned out so I can't thank you enough for reading and leaving keysmashes in the comments, it means a lot &lt;3 hmu on Tumblr if you wanna talk about this fic, dimya, or anything really!</p>
<p>If anyone would like to check out the playlist that helped me write this au, here's the link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Go4ZGskf0idYuLdpTsCLY?si=2UTLQMR2RxCAbIweGx3TAA</p>
<p>Stay safe!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya was terrible at hiding her emotional state. She put up a good fight but it was no use— her heart was transparently cracked. Her sisters kept sharing guilty glances to each other, pitying glances at her, and dismissive glances at Alexei. </p>
<p>At one point her brother crawled next to her and rested his head on her shoulder, an affection from him she wasn’t unfamiliar with, but one in which the message was clear: he didn’t know why she was hurting or why it was unspeakable, but he was still there to comfort however he could.</p>
<p>The dinners and brunches and parties were already loathsome, but now they were unbearable. It took all of her strength to muster up a polite smile in greeting for their guests or hosts. Afterwards she stayed silent, other than the occasional <em> thank you, </em> staring off at the front gate, longing to escape. Then all over again she remembered why she had to remain planted in her seat and pretend she was as sunny as the sky or the flowers printed on her skirt.</p>
<p>She tried to distract herself with plans for her future. Maria was helpful with this part— she was always good with schedules and research, surely together they could figure out Anya’s vocation. Paris was out of the question at this point, since tensions seemed to be pretty high overseas. Their grandmother would be arriving back in the states soon to avoid the inevitable conflict. </p>
<p>Maria layed college pamphlets all over the floor in front of them and drilled Anya with questions mostly so Anya could think out loud. What subjects were the most interesting to learn about? Could she really spend four more years studying literature and history? Would she prefer a school closer to home or further away? But they were to no avail.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Maria!” Anya threw her hands up in the air in frustration. They’d been sitting on the floor studying various options with their feet tucked underneath them for hours. “There’s never going to be any respectable job for me at this point.”</p>
<p>“What about a job that’s <em> not </em> respectable?” Maria said. When Anya scoffed she scooted closer and tossed aside the pamphlets they were leafing through. “I’m serious! No one asked you to be like Olya or Tatya— just do what makes you happy. And what lets you live comfortably, even if it’s not as lavish as we’d expect.”</p>
<p>Anya looked up at her sister. When had Maria gotten so wise? </p>
<p>“Think about it,” she continued with a pat on the shoulder. Then she offered to get her more tea and that was the end of that.</p>
<p>Despite this breakthrough she was still much quieter than usual. So quiet, that even Papa began to notice. One night she’d wandered into his office, distractedly asking about a college she might like, and an idea for her future. He approved with a smile but gestured for her to sit down before she could leave.</p>
<p>“You’ve been a bit absent lately, Anastasia,” he said, stroking his beard and leaning forward.</p>
<p>She was sitting on the opposite side of his desk and she felt like she was one of his clients begging for more time. Only she had no idea what she was asking for, if anything. “I’ve just been upset about Paris is all.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure there’s not something else troubling you?”</p>
<p>His blue eyes— the ones they shared— twinkled, he knew something. She couldn’t lie to him. “There was a boy…”</p>
<p>His eyebrows rose. This wasn’t how she wanted him to find out about Dmitry, but she didn’t have much of a choice at this point, so she explained why she’d been away from the house so often, putting whatever rumors he may have heard to rest.</p>
<p>“I broke it off with him recently so you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” she said with a shrug, as if she could wrap up her feelings as simply as that statement.</p>
<p>“Did you not tell me sooner,” he started, tilting his head, “because you didn’t think I would approve?”</p>
<p>“No!” she was startled by how quickly she answered. And even more startled when she said, “You’d love him.”</p>
<p>His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Then why hide it at all?”</p>
<p>She bit her lip. How could she avoid the truth now? Would her siblings forgive her? She hoped they would, because when she began to break, there was no going back. She confessed everything— no more hiding, no more secrets. After she finished he was quiet for a moment and his only response was to laugh. At first he was trying to hide it, but it was clear he couldn’t contain it at all.</p>
<p>“I’ve been waiting for one of you to admit to it.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Anastasia, I knew immediately that one of you stole the car,” he said after he calmed down. “I just didn’t expect all five of you to commit the crime.”</p>
<p>She blinked. “How?”</p>
<p>“My children are all intelligent, but how did none of you remember to move the seat back?”</p>
<p>In spite of herself she laughed too. How completely ridiculous all of her turmoil over the weeks had been. </p>
<p>Eventually he leaned over to clasp her hand. “That was very valiant of you, my dear, but why was it necessary to end things?”</p>
<p>She looked down and bit her lip, that terrifying feeling rising up from her gut again. The difficult part. “He wasn’t who I thought he was.”</p>
<p>He saw between her words, what she’d left unsaid. “And yet…” </p>
<p>All she could do was nod. A lump in her throat kept her from saying more.</p>
<p>The next night their dinner guests were a bit more fun than usual— the family friend, Lily, and her fiance were a welcomed distraction. Pierre, Olga’s fiance, came over as well, and all of them brought a reason to laugh. Perhaps they’d lift her spirits.</p>
<p>Until Anya connected the dots. Lily’s was engaged to Vlad. The same Vlad Dmitry had spoken so fondly of. After the initial introductions she kept her head down, barely listening to the conversation, avoiding the memories of brown eyes and vivid stories. Vlad spoke with warmth and a flare for drama, it was no wonder Dmitry liked him.</p>
<p>She was really becoming pathetic.</p>
<p>The discussion was lively from what Anya could tell, they were going on about various programs to help ease the country out of its financial ruin, and what a shame it was to be here in the first place— the only thing people seemed to want to talk about lately. She hardly paid attention.</p>
<p>“... Didn’t you know someone who was accepted into one of these programs?” her Papa was asking. </p>
<p>“Mm hmm!!” Vlad said, swallowing his mashed potatoes. “We were planning to be business partners and sell the auto-repair shop he runs—” </p>
<p>Anya’s blood ran cold. She felt a glance in her direction, but her untouched plate of green beans suddenly became very interesting.</p>
<p>“— but, as you know, plans change,” he continued with a smile at Lily. “The poor boy has been stuck there for a long time. But when he got the job with the rail line— get this— he actually <em> turned down </em> the offer!”</p>
<p>Her head snapped up at that and her grip on her fork tightened. Dmitry told her they refused to hire him, why had would he lie about that? Why would he turn it down at all? And why hadn’t he denied it when she hurled the lie as an insult?</p>
<p>“I couldn’t believe it. Here was the opportunity he’d been waiting for! So I asked him, and I don’t know, he said something about falling in love with some girl—”</p>
<p>All eyes turned to Anya. Vlad continued on, oblivious to the carpeting he just ripped from underneath her, “Of all things!! And he didn’t know if anything would come of it, he just threw away his ticket out of here for the mere <em> chance </em> that she’d give him the time of day!”</p>
<p>“You’re one to talk,” Lily laughed. “Look at where your life’s headed after risking it all!”</p>
<p>He clasped her hand. “I suppose he and I aren’t so different.”</p>
<p>Oh god. That feeling from the library returned in all its glory and for a second she thought she was going to be sick from the force of it. But then it rose to her chest again, bubbling up to the back of her throat, and this time even further to sit on the tip of her tongue. Earlier the thought of speaking the words was suffocating, but now they were itching to be released. He’d given up so much, <em> so much </em> before anything even happened between them… and she’d kicked him to the curb in return. He broke their agreement to only tell Vlad, yes— but only because he was defending himself.</p>
<p>Oh god.</p>
<p>Everyone but Vlad was looking at her, even Mamma, but she only locked eyes with Papa. <em> What do I do? </em></p>
<p>He just smiled and gave her a single, microscopic nod.</p>
<p>That was enough confirmation and permission. With a quick and less than polite “May I be excused— thank you!” she leapt from the table and out the front door, leaving behind a fork clattering onto her plate and a chair scraping the floor and several bewildered expressions burning the back of her head.</p>
<p>She ran. The heat of the day had cooled now that the sun was hanging low. Not quite sunset, but soon. She ran down the street, following the path she’d taken too many times to count, all the way across the tracks until she arrived at the shop. The garage was closed, so she banged on the office door. Still no answer. She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the windows, cursing herself for not noticing any backdoors or learning how to break in— it was a little drastic but she couldn’t stand around and wait— when she heard a thunderous rumbling noise coming down the road. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry miss,” the familiar voice calling out over the engine made her turn around and there he was, sitting on the bike he’d worked on all summer, “we’re closed…” he trailed off when he recognized her. For a second there eyes locked and all she could do was stay silent and planted in that spot on the sidewalk. The distance between them was louder than any explanation as to why she was there.</p>
<p>Finally, she cleared the lump in her throat and gestured to the motorcycle. “You finished it,” she said lamely.</p>
<p>Dmitry blinked out of his shock and nodded, rushing to turn it off, the following quiet almost too stifling. “I was just testing it out to make sure it runs okay.”</p>
<p>After a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence he swung his leg over so he could stand and push it onto the sidewalk and unlock the door. She could tell he was trying to ignore her, so she needed to release the words inside her chest before she lost him. Instead she blurted, “I shouldn’t have kept you hidden from my family.”</p>
<p>His brow furrowed but he kept fiddling with the lock. </p>
<p>“You deserve better than that,” she continued, stepping closer.</p>
<p>Her proximity made him stop but he still wouldn’t look at her. “Did you finally get caught?” </p>
<p>“I told the truth,” she said.</p>
<p>“That I was using you the whole time?” his tone was dripping with sarcasm.</p>
<p>She shook her head. “That’s not the truth, is it.” He inhaled and clenched his jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me you turned down that job?”</p>
<p>He finally looked at her and the sight of tears in his eyes made her swallow. He only shook his head. What was there to say?</p>
<p>Whatever control she had left vanished when she saw his eyes for the first time in weeks, and she rose up on her toes, grabbed his face, and kissed him. He made a surprised noise at the back of his throat but she didn’t let him go, the only points of contact were their lips and her hands on his cheeks, and eventually his hands tentatively settling on her waist. </p>
<p>She let her heels drop back down to the ground so she could look at him. His hair was a mess from the ride so she pushed it up out of his eyes. Her thumb settled on the dimple on his left cheek, and she wished he’d smile so more would appear. His eyes were still sad despite everything, still questioning.</p>
<p>“Do you have plans tonight?” she asked in a soft voice.</p>
<p>He blinked. “Anya, what—”</p>
<p>“I think it’s time Papa met the young man I fell in love with.”</p>
<p>Beneath her arms his chest expanded, his lips parted in disbelief. “You— are you sure?”</p>
<p>His insecurity made her throat tighten. How could he question when she was here, in his arms, her heart in his hands? “Dima, I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she said, as if she hadn’t been agonizing over the words for weeks, as if her heart wasn’t stuttering like the motorcycle engine he just turned off.</p>
<p>He finally, <em> finally </em> grinned, dimples sprouting on his cheeks, and he wrapped his arms around her waist to lift her up and kiss her again, firm and reassuring, open and honest, plain for all to see. She’d been terrified of what would happen to her if she let the words escape, like saying them out loud would tether her down and leave her vulnerable to further wounding. But instead she felt free, as if releasing them lifted a weight off her chest, letting her heart float midair. </p>
<p>He gently set her down. “Should I go change?” he asked, smiling against her mouth.</p>
<p>She shook her head and their noses bumped, still holding tight. “Come just as you are.”</p>
<p>He kissed her one more time before standing tall. They walked arm and arm across the tracks, no longer just letting their hands and shoulders brush at their sides noncommittally. She knew now that he was sure where he stood with her there was no doubt how easily he’d fit into her life.</p>
<p>The sun was setting, but something else was beginning.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Dmitry hit it off with her family. Anya wasn’t surprised.</p>
<p>The rest of summer flew by. When autumn arrived, Anya went to a school nearby to study literature, and when her four years were through she’d open a bookstore back home— that was her plan, anyway, for now. It wasn’t the Parisian life she’d envisioned or the life of charity she expected of herself, but if she could bring books to a community who needed an escape the way she did, who was she to deny that? Dmitry said her business would boom with her smile alone. The building she and Papa looked at had two floors, one for retail and one for residential living, and she could picture her life there so clearly. And who she’d share it with, years from now.</p>
<p>Dmitry visited her more often than necessary, bringing flowers and gifts that reminded her of home. He eventually stopped working at the auto shop and became a full time employee at the curio shop, coaxing old knick knacks and ornaments back to life. He seemed lighter, smiling more often, not as tired. He could afford new clothes now, ones that suited his face and his vanity.</p>
<p>In return for his visits she’d invite herself to his work when she could, slipping through the back door to find him tinkering away, sometimes so concentrated he didn’t notice her approach until she kissed him on his cheek. </p>
<p>“Are you ready?” she asked when she hopped up on his desk, playing with his shirt collar. “Nanna is in town and expects to meet my young man at dinner.”</p>
<p>He grinned but still fiddled with the trinket he was fixing. “Almost done… I just… I can’t get this open.”</p>
<p>“Can I see?”</p>
<p>He handed it to her. It was heavy and circular in her palm, carefully ornamented with faded paint and detailed engravings. “I thought it was for jewelry, but I think it’s a music box.” </p>
<p>“It’s beautiful,” she said, studying the intricate sides.</p>
<p>“I think it’s broken,” he huffed. “I’ve been trying to get it open for hours.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” she flipped it upside down and twisted a little knob at the bottom. Something clicked, and just like that, the lid opened and two ceramic dancers popped up and started spinning to the twinkling lullaby that started playing.</p>
<p>“How did you—” He blinked in shock. </p>
<p>She struggled to contain her teasing giggle, passing the music box back to him. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”</p>
<p>He just looked back and forth at the music box and up at her, dumbfounded. </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You’re just… you keep surprising me.”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “It’s only a music box, Dmitry.”</p>
<p>“No, you’re—” he took her hand. “You’re amazing.”</p>
<p>He wasn’t often verbally affectionate, but when he was, her knees went a little wobbly. She blinked and kissed his hand. “Let’s go before I kiss you too much and make you unpresentable to my grandmother.”</p>
<p>He laughed and helped her down. They left, her hand and heart in his, the music box on the desk, still playing its song from the past and future.</p>
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